


Ignite Your Bones

by ashley_ingenious



Series: Fix You [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Beta Derek Hale, D/s undertones, Derek Centric, Feral Derek Hale, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Magical stiles, Soul Bond, actual wolf derek, dubcon, handjobs, needy!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley_ingenious/pseuds/ashley_ingenious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But the moon rose, like it always did, and he felt lost beneath the pull of it. He ran faster, harder, further away from home. He hunted larger game, took it down more ruthlessly. He reveled in the taste of blood filling his mouth. But when the blood lust had passed, he still felt thin and unmoored. He’d drop where he stood, dizzy and sick to his stomach. He’d whine for an Alpha. For <i>his</i> Alpha."</p><p>Derek's an Omega now. After a while, it starts to get to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignite Your Bones

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing started because I was like, "Hey, I wonder if I could write bottom!Derek." 
> 
> Apparently I can't. 
> 
> Title from Coldplay's "Fix You", but you probably knew that. 
> 
> Notes on the nature of Dubcon behavior at the end.

It started not long after Derek returned to Beacon Hills. Scott was a proper Alpha now, his pack ran seamlessly. Isaac seemed happy, confident in himself in a way he’d never been with Derek. Lydia and Allison were terrifying as always, closer too, it seemed. Scott smelled of fresh infatuation, and snuck surreptitious glances at the new girl whenever he thought he could get away with it. And she wouldn’t be a hunter, Derek thought, or a monster. She wouldn’t die. Scott was lucky that way, more than Derek had ever been.

Stiles smelled of magic, sharper and surer than he had before. It coursed through his veins and made him steady. Stretched him out until he fit into his skin. The fumbling, flailing Stiles from the beginning was gone. In his place was a man. One with bags around his eyes, who was rougher at the edges, who’d seen too much already.

When Scott offered him a place in his new Pack, Derek declined. He looked at Scott, and he still tasted the acrid sickness of Gerard Argent’s blood in his mouth. Allison still made him think of arrows piercing Boyd and Erica’s bodies, and the glint of metal stabbing into Isaac again and again. When he looked at Lydia, he saw purple powder blown into his face, and felt the sting of Peter’s betrayal all over. And the sight of Isaac filled him with shame. He could never foster the kind of growth and security in the boy that Scott had. Isaac was better off as far away from Derek as possible. So, as politely as he could, Derek turned down Scott’s offer, once, twice, three times. There was no way he could join this pack. He couldn’t trust it.

So he drifted. He spent more and more of his time as a wolf in the woods. Eventually, he stopped shifting back at all. Never straying too far from the burned out hull of his home, he’d curl up over Laura’s grave to sleep at night. The warning echoes of his mother plagued him at night: _The lone wolf dies, but the Pack survives._ He’d tried that. He’d tried to find a pack, and home, and security. He’d ended up just getting everyone killed. No, he was done with Pack. Pack was better off without him.

Instead, he chased rabbits and stray deer through the brush. He climbed trees to bother squirrels. He took naps in sun speckled grass and didn’t bother anyone. Living as a wolf was simpler. He tried to find the joy in that simplicity.

But the moon rose, like it always did, and he felt lost beneath the pull of it. He ran faster, harder, further away from home. He hunted larger game, took it down more ruthlessly. He reveled in the taste of blood filling his mouth. But when the blood lust had passed, he still felt thin and unmoored. He’d drop where he stood, dizzy and sick to his stomach. He’d whine for an Alpha. For _his_ Alpha.

And then the dreams came. He dreamt of cognac colored eyes and how they’d been the first thing he’d seen when he’d opened his own in that elevator. He dreamt of long fingered hands and how they’d skated over his shoulder and squeezed as he drowned in the loss of his pack mates. He dreamt of full, red lips, wet from pool water, holding him up and keeping him safe when he was vulnerable. He dreamt of that safety, of trust, of the way Pack was supposed to feel. The way having an Alpha was supposed to feel. He acknowledged, in the dim recesses of his mind that were still human, that Stiles was the only one who ever made him feel the way his mother had made him feel. Who made him feel _safe_. The feeling he got from the younger man was reminiscent of back when he’d had a proper Alpha, before everything had gone to shit. It was the kind of safety that permeated every pore, and seemed impervious to the outside world. He knew now, that it wasn’t impervious, couldn't be. But he’d give anything for that feeling again, illusion or no.

Four moons had risen and fallen, and Derek began to unravel.

At first he just longed for the core things that he missed, that any wolf would feel lost without: safety, protection, trust, pack, Alpha. He imagined how he would prove his worthiness to Stiles, if he ever saw him again. How he’d bare his throat and his belly and _submit_ to Stiles. Give up anything and everything for the shelter of the other man’s presence. But even that innocent desire twisted over time. Derek was prepared to beg. To bare more than his throat. As the months bled together, he turned desperate, hungry, aching for his Alpha. He was willing to offer his mouth, his cock, his hole, his _blood_ if only. If only.

So when the day came that he caught that whiff of magic in the woods, he ran. He chased after it, skittering to a stop in a sun drenched clearing. He saw Stiles there, laid out on his back in the grass, hands folded over his stomach, rising and falling with his breath. His shirt, navy blue and stretched taut over broad shoulders, was hitched up just enough that Derek was able to see the dark trail of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. Derek’s mouth watered, his mind screamed.  Stiles’ eyes were closed and peaceful under the sunlight. Derek padded closer, but stopped far enough away that he still ached from it.

Stiles’ voice cracked the silence open. “Hey, Der.” He said easily. Derek  huffed, to show that he’d heard. Stiles kept talking. “I’ve been thinking about you.” He continued,  but there was hesitation in his tone. His uncertainty made Derek nervous. The wolf dropped to his belly and fought back a whine. He wanted to be strong for his Alpha. “Well,” Stiles pressed on, “I’ve been feeling you. I talked to Deaton about it. He says it sounds like a pack bond. But that’s not possible, right? ‘Cause we’re not pack.”

Those words sliced at Derek, and the whine spilled out into the clearing. Stiles’ eyes opened, and he propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at the wolf before him. “Didn’t like that much, did you?” He asked, keeping his voice light, but Derek didn’t respond.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed as they ran over Derek’s wolf form more speculatively. Derek didn’t know whether to preen or cringe under his Alpha’s inspection. He hadn’t been paying the best attention to his grooming, so he wasn’t sure what Stiles was seeing. “How long have you been shifted?” Stiles murmured, but Derek didn’t respond to that either.

After a long, quiet moment, Stiles stood, brushing stray grass off his pants as he did. “Come here,” he beckoned. There was an authority in his voice that made Derek ache and crave and obey. He padded over quietly, sitting at Stiles’ feet. “Can you shift for me?” The younger man asked, his voice quiet and eyes soft. For his Alpha, thought, Derek knew he would do anything. He silently endured the crack and burn of rearranging bones (it had been _so_ long), as he drew himself up to his full height. He was shocked, momentarily, to see that Stiles was taller than him now. It only took him a moment to decide he liked it. He tried not to be embarrassed by his nudity, it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal for wolves. He tried harder not to let his dick stiffen at the proximity to his Alpha. He failed miserably.

Blessedly, Stiles didn’t notice. His eyes were still soft with concern.

“Do you remember your name?” The younger man prompted. Derek only nodded, because he was still mostly a wolf, and everything was still simple. Stiles seemed to require more. “Can you tell me?” Derek’s brow furrowed a bit, and he cleared his throat once before barking out, “Derek.” His voice was hoarse from disuse, but Stiles smiled at him, nodding, and Derek was sure that the brief pain was worth it. Anything for his Alpha’s approval, he reminded himself. Anything

 “Do you know my name?” Stiles continued.

“Alpha,” Derek forced out.

Stiles’ eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, murmuring, “Holy fuck.” Derek whined again, wondering what he’d done wrong and hating himself for it. He didn’t know whether or not he should take a step forward, and close the awful distance between them. Before he could figure it out, though, Stiles was back in his space, closer than before, shushing him. “Hey, no, shh. It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here. Shh.” His hands moved slowly, starting at Derek’s shoulders and working their way down, until they settled into the hollow of the wolf’s lower back. Derek buried his face in his Alpha’s neck and took a breath. He was so content just then, everything in the world seemed to be falling into place.

His hard dick scraped against the denim at Stiles’ thigh and he rutted against it, wanting more of his Alpha, wanting closer. But Stiles pushed at him a little, saying, “Hey, none of that,” and Derek stopped. His Alpha was _here_. His Alpha was _touching him_. It was enough. Derek could make it enough.

“Can you tell me my name, Der?”  Stiles pressed. “Stiles,” Derek choked out. The warmth of Stiles’ smile had him preening. “Come on, buddy,” Stiles chuckled, “let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

Hand still placed firmly on his lower back, Stiles led Derek back through the forest to the Jeep. Once they got there, he pulled a pair of basketball shorts and a t shirt from a gym bag in the back. They reeked of Stiles, and the whole thing only served to make Derek harder.

The ride back to the Stilinski house was quiet. Shifting after all this time had taken a lot out of Derek, plus he wasn’t sure he could speak to Stiles without embarrassing himself, he was so thrilled by the younger man’s presence. “You feel happy,” Stiles muttered once, but Derek just nodded, still not trusting his words.

The cruiser was gone when they got to the house, which Stiles seemed to be expecting. He came around to unlock Derek’s door, and ushered him into the house. Steering him up the stairs, he pushed the wolf into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “In with you. You smell like dirt. It’s a little disgusting.” He said, and then turned to leave. Derek whined again, unable to deal with his Alpha leaving him so soon after he’d arrived. Stiles stopped and turned in the doorway. “Separation anxiety, huh?” He teased with an arched eyebrow, Derek said nothing. Huffing, Stiles sat on the commode and waited for Derek to be finished.

Dutifully, he kept his eyes off the werewolf’s naked body as he showered. But when Derek’s soapy hand strayed to his dick, the moan he let out was so obscene that Stiles couldn’t help but to glance over. He was entranced by the visual of Derek’s hand fisted around his cock, his hips snapping forward helplessly.

The younger man fumbled off the commode and tried to leave the room. Derek begged. “Please, Alpha, touch me. Please.” And Stiles was frozen between the shower and the door, eyes locked on Derek, wet and hot and wanting. Wanting _him._ It was everything Stiles had ever imagined. Still, he mumbled, “I’ll wait outside.” Derek’s whine turned pitiful. “Please,” he said. “Just, don’t go. Please,” and Stiles reasoned that it was a small thing, just not leaving. He didn’t even have to watch. So he let his hip fall against the sink, facing the door, and listened to the wet slap of skin on skin. Derek let out the most delicious little gasps and quiet moans that Stiles could tell he was trying to keep to himself.

The brunette’s own cock was like a hot coal straining under his zipper. He was so hard it was painful. Their makeshift pack bond was thrumming with shared desire and Stiles was drowning in it. All their emotions were pointing towards one thing, that he should _take_ Derek. Claim him and own him. That it was what he wanted. It made Stiles’ mouth water and his legs shake. He kept his eyes on the door.

It didn’t take long before Derek’s thrusts grew ragged and unsteady. He let loose a growl of frustration. “I can’t,” he gasped, “I can’t. I need you.” The whimper cracked through to Stiles’ very core. He’d reached the end of his rope. Stripping faster than should have been humanly possible, he hopped into the shower, pressing Derek back against the far wall. He forced the other man’s chin up, wrapping his teeth around the wolf’s Adam's apple and leaving them there. The vibrations from Derek’s whines skipped over his tongue and Stiles’ loved it. He trailed a wet hand down to the gorgeous, leaking dick before him. He wrapped around it, tight and secure. Derek moaned, arching and tipping his head back further, giving Stiles more room. The younger man will growled, primal and real, as he jerked Derek’s cock, hard and fast. The magic from the bond was going to his head, telling him to _be_ Derek’s Alpha.

His own cock slipped and slid against the hollow of Derek’s hip, and Stiles started to rut against him, hand never stopping, never slowing down. Derek choked out a ragged, “yes…” And Stiles took his mouth off Derek’s neck. Placing a hand of the side of the wolf’s head, he lined their cocks up together. Fisting the thick, heated flesh in his hand, he stroked just the way he liked it, selfish and hard. He fucked into his own hand, nipping at Derek’s jaw, and the soft skin underneath.

They didn’t kiss.

 Stiles muttered things he’d never forgive himself for. “That’s it, Kochanie. That’s it. Come apart for me. Come apart for your Alpha. Let me have it,” he grunted into the wolf’s neck. Derek cried out, back arching  away from the shower wall, trembling as he came hot and messy between them. Pride twisted inside Stiles like a vicious thing, and his smile was positively wild. He shifted, blocking the water from washing away Derek’s come, rubbing it into the wolf’s stomach, still jerking his own cock.

Derek was mad with it, wrapped up in Stiles’ scent like safety, drowning in the smell of his arousal and pleasure, his satisfaction. He wasn’t able to stop himself. “Fuck me,” he moaned, “Please, Alpha, I need you inside. Please, God, fuck me.” Stiles swore under his breath. He couldn’t keep himself from considering it: plunging himself into Derek, sinking into the tight heat waiting for him, pounding his fill, taking and taking and _taking_.

He slid his dick between Derek’s legs, so that the head of his cock brushed the wolf’s hole on every thrust. “Hold them tight for me,” he muttered, and hissed when Derek squeezed his strong thighs shut. He wrapped a free hand around Derek’s throat, used the other one to brace against the wall, and he began thrusting with abandon. Derek whimpered with every brush to his hole, but Stiles didn’t hear him anymore. He was high off the power and the need. The water had long since gone lukewarm, but both men were still on fire. Stiles’ thrusts lost all coordination and finesse. They went choppy and uneven. His last pump was hard enough that the tip of his cock caught against Derek’s hole. The wolf gasped as Stiles’ come pumped into him. He came again, completely untouched.

They breathed under the cool water for a few minutes, before Stiles rinsed them both off and led Derek out into the steamed air of the bathroom. He wrapped a towel around both of their waists and led Derek into his bedroom. He couldn’t meet the older man’s eyes.

When they reached the bedroom, Stiles tossed clean clothes to Derek. As much as the wolf wanted to enjoy being dressed in the smell of his Alpha, he could sense Stiles’ displeasure now. The younger man reeked of guilt. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked quietly, voice almost restored, and Stiles’ honey eyes snapped to his, shocked that he’d made any noise at all. “No,” he said firmly. “No. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs.”

It was awkward, though, as they walked down the stairs together. Derek was unsure what to do with his hands, his mouth, the words clogged in his throat.  They sat down on opposite ends of the couch, and Stiles turned on an old movie with Nicholas Cage and Sean Connery. After a while, he let Derek shift so that the wolf’s head was rested in Stiles’ lap. He even went so far as to rake his fingers through Derek’s still damp hair. The wolf rumbled his satisfaction from his chest.

On a commercial, Stiles sighed. “What happened in the shower,” he began slowly, “we can’t do that anymore.” Derek shifted so that he was facing Stiles rather than the TV. “Did you not like it?” He asked,  voice coming out small, but he didn’t care. The sting of his Alpha’s rejection was too much to handle. “No,” Stiles rushed to clarify, “it’s not that. It’s just…you’re not yourself right now, Der. Your head’s messed up from being shifted for so long. You think I’m your Alpha and I’m not.”

“You are,” Derek whined, “You said.” Stiles sighed. “I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have said. Did a lot of things…look. I’m here for you. But I’m not a wolf, Der. I can’t be your Alpha. Somewhere in there, you know that.”

Frustration started to build up in Derek’s chest, because that wasn’t true. It just wasn’t. He reached out, twining his fingers through Stiles’ and said, “I’m safe. I know that I’m safe right now. I know that whatever comes through that door, whatever comes next, you are going to do everything in your power to keep me safe. I haven’t felt that way since Laura died.”

Stiles inhaled sharply, eyes widening. “How long were you shifted?” Stiles prompted, and Derek responded immediately, “almost five months.” Stiles shook his head. “This is the wolf, talking, Der. When your human side surfaces—“

“There aren’t sides, Stiles. It’s all me. And I trust you. I’ve trusted you for a long time. You’re the only one who’s never lied to me, abused me, betrayed me or abandoned me. You’re the one that came looking for me in the woods. You’re the one that can feel me. So strongly that we’ve created some sort of magical pack bond. You’re my Alpha. That’s not going to change. I understand if you don’t want me, I know I’m messed up but—“

“Stop that,” Stiles said, authority lining his voice and making Derek’s head tilt up a bit in deference. Stiles absentmindedly stroked the flesh of his neck. “If this is what you want, Derek…” he began, ever cautious. “If it’s what you really want, you can have it. I…there’s never been a time when I haven’t wanted you. But I’ll need you to prove it to me, that it’s what you really want, and not just something for now, not just something to soothe the aches.”

Derek nodded. Their conversation tabled for now, Stiles returned his attention to the movie. Derek shifted back so that his eyes were facing the tv, but he closed them. He drifted into a light doze, comfortable and safe.

About an hour later, the pack trickled in. The smells and sounds of them popped the peaceful little bubble Stiles had set up around Derek, and he awoke, growling. Stiles didn’t let his heartbeat waver, just kept carding his hand through Derek’s hair and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. We’re fine. Sleep.”

Scott hesitated in the doorway, nostrils flaring. He looked at Stiles, dumbfounded. “I’m glad you found him. But he smells,” he began, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “He smells like yours. Why does he smell like yours?”

Stiles looked at Derek for a long time, and before the wolf slipped back into sleep, he heard his Alpha tell his best friend: “Because he is. He is mine.”

Derek slept, safely and dreamlessly, for hours. 

**Author's Note:**

> Dubcon: Completely consensual sexual activity, but Stiles is unsure as to the quality of Derek's consent, because of his current mental state. 
> 
> Hey! Do you tumbl? I tumbl. Come bother me [here](http://asafeplaceforderekhale.tumblr.com)


End file.
